Read Dancing at Midnight for Free Online Page B

shook his head slightly as if to banish the thought.
    /Get a hold of yourself, John, /his inner voice warned. "I apologize,"
    he said abruptly. "I certainly did not mean to make you ill at ease. It
    is just rather uncommon for a young lady to call upon a bachelor
    unescorted."

    Belle smiled archly, his apology somehow relieving her tension. "I am
    rather uncommon myself."

    John didn't doubt it for an instant. He glanced over at her saucy
    expression and wondered if she had come calling deliberately
    to torture him.

    "Besides," Belle continued, "I didn't think you would be such a stickler
    for etiquette."

    /"I /am not," he pointed out. "Most young ladies, however, are."

    A servant brought in tea and coffee, and Belle quickly offered to pour.
    She handed him a cup of coffee and set about fixing herself some tea,
    chattering all the while.

    "Did you grow up in the area?"

    "No."

    "Well, then, where did you grow up?"

    "Shropshire."

    "How lovely."

    John made a noise that was perilously close to a grunt. Belle raised her
    eyebrows and continued. "I am from London."

    "How lovely."

    Belle pursed her lips at his sarcastic comment. "We have a home in
    Sussex, of course, but I tend to think of London as home."

    John picked up a scone and liberally spread some strawberry jam onto it.
    "How unfortunate for you."

    "Don't you like London?"

    "Not particularly."

    "Oh." And what else was she supposed to say, Belle wondered. A full
    minute passed, and she was painfully aware of the speculative and amused
    glances that John was shooting her way. "Well," she said finally. "I see
    that you were not lying to
    me yesterday."

    That comment caught John's attention and he looked up questioningly.

    "You really are dreadful at making polite conversation."

    He let out a bark of laughter. "No one could ever accuse you of being
    less than astute, my lady."

    Belle let that comment pass, not entirely certain that it had been meant
    as a compliment. As she looked over at him she remembered yesterday's
    conversation. For a moment, at least, they had enjoyed each other's
    company. They had discussed Shakespeare, and yes, even teased each other
    a bit.

    He'd been different then, almost boyish. That is, until he had put his
    guard back up. Belle had a feeling that someone had
    hurt this man very badly in the past. That didn't, however, mean that
    she would allow him to abuse her in turn.

    She sensed something special in him, something fine and shining and
    very, very good. And perhaps all he needed was someone
    to remind him of that. She saw no reason not to throw caution to the
    wind and try to befriend him despite all of the obstacles he was
    throwing in her path. Crossing her arms, she said, "You can speak in
    that arrogant tone if you want, but it won't wash."

    John raised an eyebrow.

    "You might as well accept it." Belle stated plainly. "You like me."

    Much to John's dismay, his coffee cup clattered loudly in its saucer.
    "What did you say?"

    "You like me." Belle cocked her head, looking much like a cat who had
    just lapped up a very large bowl of cream.

    "And how did you reach that conclusion, may I ask?"

    "I can just tell."

    It was on the tip of his tongue to ask her if she also realized that he
    wanted her very badly. Could she tell that? Perhaps. He himself was
    quite surprised by the force of his reaction to her. Yesterday, she'd
    looked lovely sitting under his tree, but today,
    to his still slightly sleepy eyes, she was a goddess.

    "You needn't look so impressed by my insight," Belle quipped.

    A goddess with a very smart mouth.

    "You," John said forcefully, "should be whipped."

    "I hope you don't intend to search out a crop right now. I've grown
    rather fond of my backside." Good Lord, Belle wondered, /when /had she
    grown so bold? She glanced over at his furious visage.

    John's traitorous mind decided that it would like to get very, very fond
    of her backside, and then his even more traitorous body reacted
    violently